


The Runner

by indigo_5



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, Yuletide, Yuletide 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_5/pseuds/indigo_5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deniz knows how to run. It’s harder to know when to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Runner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph/gifts).



> This fic starts on the evening of [part 297](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gC0pDVKM3pg) and requires no canon knowledge beyond the early 300s. Includes references about Deniz’s past from parts [249](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9k7Pgc95wQ), [250](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FysWkXotX9g) and [290](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8PBrNctDwU).  
> Warnings: Explicit underage sex (character is 17). Homophobic language. References to violence. Lots of sex to make up for it.
> 
> Happy holidays, Steph! Hope you enjoy!

It felt like a first kiss. That was the thought that wouldn’t leave Deniz’s mind as he walked home, jacket pulled tight at the collar, shoulders hunched against the cold of the wind. It was a strange thought, but there it was. It was very late, and he needed to get home, and his mind was running in a thousand directions at once, and all at top speed. The party at Number 7. The look on Roman’s face when he’d pulled Deniz away from that stripper guy. The anger, confusing anger. And then the surprise of his mouth, wet and firm and insistent and there, all of a sudden. Deniz had barely had time to react, but he had. He’d only been imagining it for months, and he was damn well going to kiss back. And then there was Roman’s apartment, and more kisses, and the panic, and yeah. That was a surprise.

So now it was late, and it was dark, and it was cold. And he was alone. And the one thing his brain seemed to want to focus on, out of all those confusing whirling things, was the thought that it felt like it was his first kiss. Which didn’t make any sense at all.

It wasn’t, was the thing. His actual first kiss was ages ago. Five years ago, to be exact, on a playground in Munich with Claudia Müller. They were twelve years old and it was partly a game and partly because she had these pretty lips, pink and soft and always smiling. She giggled when he did it, and then she kissed him back. And wow, he hadn’t thought about Claudia in a long, long time.

It wasn’t his first kiss with a boy either, if you got right down to it. If you wanted to be totally honest about it. Which okay, Deniz didn’t exactly have a great track record on. But that first was in Munich too, six months ago. He shook his head, pulling his jacket a little closer, pushing that thought away. Last thing he needed was to be thinking about Aldo tonight.

And anyway, it got better than that, because it wasn’t even his first kiss with Roman. Roman had stolen that one months ago, laughing into it, teasing him through it. It meant nothing to him. It meant nothing to Deniz either, of course, except, well. Maybe it did.

The wind kicked up again, and Deniz shivered, quickening his pace. He didn’t actually have to go by foot. He didn’t have a car, yeah, because Roman had driven them from the party to his apartment, and anyway Deniz had had a couple of beers, so maybe it was just as well. But there were cabs. There were options. He passed a hotel, booming with music, with people. There was a cab stand outside, and a driver waved a hand out the window at him, urging him in. But Deniz shook his head, hunched his shoulders, and kept walking.

The walk helped. It gave him some quiet. Some space to think. Like about that kiss on Roman’s couch, that intense feeling like he was spiraling out of control, which he liked, a lot. Really a lot. Maybe disturbing amounts. Maybe that was why he stopped it.

“Why the hell did you do that?” He was muttering to himself, watching his breath plume out in front of him with every word. Not that it helped. He didn’t have an answer. What, was he the girl, all of a sudden? Some virginal chick, afraid of her own shadow, afraid to be touched, or to get too turned on?

Because he had. Gotten turned on, that is. God, had he ever. Deniz ran a hand through his hair, swallowing, thinking about it. The way Roman’s mouth was so strong, and the feel of the stubble all around it, and how he rose up over Deniz, taking control, taking charge, and God. God. Deniz felt himself start to react even now, a familiar twinge in his pants that seemed to happen every time he even thought about Roman these days. And now -- now it was real. Now he was allowed to kiss him as much as he wanted. He could probably have gotten laid tonight, if he wanted. And good God, he wanted. So what the hell?

He rounded the corner, walking so fast he was nearly jogging now. Dad’s place was a block and a half down on the right, visible now, just barely. He felt his gut tighten as he watched it, and somehow he wasn’t walking quite so fast anymore.

***

 _“Aldo!” Somebody was shouting. Deniz wasn’t really paying attention, because Karin Richter was finally making out with him after weeks of being a little tease, and it wasn’t worth lifting his head. “Aldo! Where does your mom keep the good booze? This shit is weak!”_

 _Karin made a little complaining noise, her hand weakly departing from Deniz’s arm for a moment. Deniz ignored it. She tasted like beer and cigarettes, and her kisses were kind of sloppy, like too wet. But she was the hottest girl at the party, and she was kissing_ him, _which meant he won. Aldo and Stefan could suck it._

 _Something hit his leg, hard enough to hurt, and he broke the kiss, annoyed. It was Stefan’s girlfriend, as it turned out. Swaying a little, knocking into everyone as she made her way through the room. She was saying something, but the music was too loud for Deniz to figure it out. But Karin apparently understood, because she was standing up now, taking the other girl’s hand. “Hey,” Deniz complained, because it seemed like the thing to do. Karin shrugged and followed her friend, and oh well. Maybe Aldo would be up for a game of Bavouche._

 _He reached for his bottle, but it was empty. Damn it. So he got up, carefully stepping over the other couple making out on the couch and finding his way to the kitchen. Aldo was his best friend, after all, or one of them, anyway. Deniz was certainly here often enough to know where the good stuff was stashed._

 _Aldo was in the kitchen, digging for more chips somewhere behind the sea of crappy Diet meal-in-a-can drinks his mom stocked up on. He looked over his shoulder when Deniz entered, nodded at him briefly. “You crashing here tonight?” His attention was already back in the cabinet._

 _“Yeah, why not.”_

 _“You should start paying me rent.” He was laughing, sort of, a rough snort of a thing._

 _“Fuck you,” Deniz said absently, squatting down to the cereal cabinet and reaching behind the boxes. “Damn. Did somebody already grab the vodka?”_

 _“Half an hour ago, man. Keep up.”_

 _Deniz sighed, standing up again and leaning against the refrigerator as he watched his friend. It didn’t matter. He was buzzed enough already. Not too buzzed to find his way home, but Mom had another date with the creep tonight, and Deniz really didn’t want to have to hear them going at it through the wall. It wasn’t like she cared what the hell he did, so crashing at Aldo’s seemed like the better plan. Again._

 _“Aha!” Aldo emerged with a bag of barbecue chips, holding them up triumphantly, grinning big. Deniz grinned too. It wasn’t such a bad night._

***

It was quiet when Deniz got home, which was good. Dad knew him too well these days, and Deniz couldn’t count on him not being able to read the history of the whole evening on his face. The kisses. Roman’s hands on his neck, on his chest. How Deniz was aching when Roman started unbuttoning his shirt, straining at the front of his pants, so hard so fast it was overwhelming. Everything was overwhelming.

Deniz had made it into the kitchen, a habit. He was always hungry. But standing in front of the fridge, staring into it, he realized he wasn’t hungry at all. Not this time. It was all just -- just too much.

He went through the motions of getting ready for bed in silence, maybe in slow motion. His mind was still spinning. Roman’s eyes when Deniz stopped him, heated and then embarrassed and then kind. “I understand,” he’d said, smiling. He was beautiful when he smiled. And his fingers were gentle in Deniz’s hair, on Deniz’s face. And Deniz couldn’t think of a thing to say back.

Different. Everything was different with Roman. _Deniz_ was different with Roman. Suddenly he was shy, timid. Quiet, even. He didn’t know how to do this.

He’d never known anybody like Roman before. Strange and strong and confident and amazing. Deniz felt like a kid next to him, a little whiny kid. He found himself wondering what Roman saw in him, and that was definitely new territory. Deniz didn’t usually have a problem with confidence. Cockiness. He could get any girl he wanted, or a lot of them, anyway. Except he’d never wanted anyone like he wanted Roman. And that made everything different, somehow.

God, he wanted him. Deniz closed his eyes, swallowing, the sound very loud in the quiet darkness of his bedroom. He fingered the sheet over him and thought about Roman, shirtless like in the locker room, like in the pool. Smiling at Deniz with that look in his eye like he knew everything he was thinking, everything he wanted. Straddling him, now, and naked. What would he look like naked? What would he look like hard? Deniz was reacting again already, just thinking about it. Just picturing it. His hands tightened on the sheet as he struggled with the instinct to just slip one into his boxers and give himself some relief. But he couldn’t. The rest of the house might get home any minute, and he couldn’t chance Dad overhearing, or Nadja. Or, God, Nina.

He rolled onto his side, blinking repeatedly until the vision of Roman vanished. _When did everything get so complicated?_ He didn’t have an answer, and after a while, he closed his eyes.

He didn’t sleep.

***

 _“He’s got him, he’s got him!”_

 _“Shoot! Shoot it!”_

 _“No, not that way! The other way! Grab the --”_

 _“Dude,_ nice! _”_

 _The voices were overlapping, loud, joyful. Deniz was leaning forward, thumbs moving fast over the controller now, his body bobbing and weaving along with the character on the screen. He was going to win. He was_ totally _going to win._

 _“Left! Left!”_

 _“Hey, how the hell are you --”_

 _“Woah!”_

 _Aldo stood up, his elbows flying out along with his thumbs now, and no_ way _was Deniz going to let him block his view of the screen, so he jumped up too. “Oh, you think you’re all that, do you?” He couldn’t resist the taunting. But then, he wasn’t trying very hard. “Think I’m gonna take pity on you just because --”_

 _“Die!” Aldo was yelling just as loud as he was, and the characters were really going at it now, blood spurting everywhere. “Die, motherfucker, die, d-- hey, what the hell? Where did you get another --”_

 _“Might want to take notes, Schmitz, ’cause you’re about to get schooled.” Oh, it was good. It was too good. One shot, two, three, and Aldo’s character fell to the battlefield, vanquished. Deniz hollered and jumped triumphantly, pumping his fists, accepting quite a few back slaps as the crowd recognized his genius. Aldo just rolled his eyes, tossing his controller onto the couch and shaking his head. He was smiling, though. The guy had never been an asshole. “Thaaaat’s right,” Deniz gloated. “I’m here to pass out ass-kickings and lollipops, and I’m all out of lollipops.” There was no reason not to have a little fun._

 _“All right, all right. All hail Ötztürk. You want another beer, or what?”_

 _Deniz laughed, slapping his shoulder. “Sounds good, man.” Two other guys had already picked up their controllers anyway, though a small fight had broken out over who got to be the bad guy. It didn’t matter. The beer was flowing, and Aldo was already cracking jokes about something else, and everything was good._

 _The couch was kind of taken, and some girl was passed out in the comfy chair, and they weren’t about to sit at the dining room table like a couple of pussies. So they ended up on the floor in the corner of the living room, just the two of them, leaning against the wall and drinking their beers and talking about nothing, as usual. After a while, the words faded out and they just sat together, watching the noisy crowd hovering around the video console, saying nothing. Aldo broke the silence first. “Man, I’ve got to get out of here.”_

 _Deniz turned his head, surprised. “Out of where?”_

 _“This apartment. This neighborhood. Munich. I don’t know. I can’t keep doing the same shit forever.”_

 _Okay, this was... confusing. Deniz blinked at him, trying to figure it out._

 _“Don’t you ever want to get out of here? Get out of this city, just, see what else is out there?”_

 _“I have.”_

 _Aldo turned to him, looking perplexed for a moment, until something snapped into place. “Oh, right. Your dad, right? Where does he live?”_

 _“Essen. It’s not much. But I’ve been to Turkey with him a few times to see family, and once he took me to a soccer game in Paris.”_

 _Aldo exhaled, his head thumping heavily back against the wall. “Lucky shit. Most traveling I’ve ever done is a day trip to Augsburg.”_

 _He couldn’t help it, he laughed. Aldo glared at him a little bit, but he just shrugged. “I’m sorry, just -- Augsburg? That sucks.”_

 _“Tell me about it.” He took another sip. He wasn’t really looking at Deniz anymore. “And it’s not just the traveling, anyway. I feel like we always do the same thing, day after day, week after week, year after year. How many times have we had this party? How many times have we played that game?”_

 _“Tons. You’d think you’d have started getting better at it by now.”_

 _He didn’t even laugh at that one. “I want to try other shit, is all. Hanggliding. Hitching a ride on a freight train. Working as a taste tester for Jever Pils. Anything.” Deniz kind of wanted to make another dig, but something in Aldo’s voice told him to wait. So he did. Eventually, Aldo spoke again. “Haven’t you ever been curious?”_

 _Aldo was looking at him now, and there was something new in the gaze. It was making Deniz a little uncomfortable. “Curious about what?”_

 _Aldo just looked at him. He didn’t look away. “You ever wondered what it would be like to kiss a boy?”_

***

Roman knew things. A lot of things. They spent time together, hours together, kissing, talking, kissing. He was really good at both.

Sometimes they went to the movies. Sometimes they grabbed a meal. Sometimes they sat in the park together, holding hands, being close. It took Deniz a few outings to realize it, but what they were doing was _dating._ Wow.

“Don’t worry so much.” Roman said that a lot, teasing him, smiling. His hand was warm on Deniz’s hip this time, because they were under a tree, Roman’s good leg kind of tangled with one of Deniz’s, and it was going to be too cold to sit outside like this soon, but it wasn’t quite there yet. Deniz kept his eyes lowered, tracing a pattern on the line of denim that creased along Roman’s thigh. So strong underneath. So much warmth.

Roman’s other hand found the back of his neck, just resting there, the fingers ruffling his hair a little. And all of a sudden, Deniz was imagining that hand pushing him lower, guiding him to Roman’s crotch, to the thick heat waiting inside. He swallowed, closing his eyes. The low thrum of arousal that had been pulsing through him since they sat down was strong like a heartbeat now, hard to ignore. Hard, in general.

“Hey.” The voice was so kind. It always was. “You okay?” Deniz looked up, forced his eyes to lock with Roman’s. But he didn’t know what to say. Roman smiled anyway, as if he understood. Which he couldn’t, because Deniz didn’t even. But Roman was ducking his head a little, rubbing their noses, and the gesture was so ridiculous it made Deniz laugh. And breathe. He brought a hand to Roman’s face, tracing the lips with a finger. Roman nipped at it playfully, grinning now.

“You girl,” Deniz murmured, smiling big. His heart was full of something. He didn’t know what.

Roman laughed. “Me? Who wanted to cuddle under a tree in the park?”

“That was your idea!”

“The park was my idea. You came up with the cuddling.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t really want to. Anyway, Roman was kissing him again, and it felt so good. So delicious. So perfect. And then he sort of growled into Deniz’s mouth, and Deniz wanted to just roll him onto his back and do a whole lot more.

They were in public, so he couldn’t. But the next time they kissed, it was harder to hold back.

The couch made a squeaking noise as they moved against it, Roman’s knees over Deniz’s hips, Deniz’s back twisting as he pulled Roman in for more. He got Roman’s jacket off fast, his shirts off faster. Skin to skin was amazing, intense, incredible. Like nothing else. Roman felt nothing like a girl against his body -- he was strong, and there was muscle, and there was hair. And when Roman nudged against him with his hips, Deniz could feel every inch of him, so hard, just as hard as Deniz was. God, so hot. So hot.

He couldn’t stop kissing him. Couldn’t stop anything. He unbuttoned Roman’s pants, heart pounding a thousand beats a minute, or a hundred thousand. But his hands shook as he lowered the zipper, and Roman stopped him, grabbing his wrists, pulling out of the kiss. “Wait.” His breathing was uneven. Thank God. For once, Roman was as discombobulated as he was.

“What?” Deniz’s brain was too fried for more than one syllable at a time. Roman was _straddling_ him and his muscles were _incredible_ and more, please, God, _now._

“We don’t have to, you know? I’m not pushing you, right?”

“No.” He shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. “I mean, I know. I -- you --”

Roman smiled. Rocking forward a little, rubbing against him again. Deniz groaned in spite of himself, and Roman looked mighty pleased with himself for that. “We’re going to miss the movie.”

“Who cares,” Deniz managed, and he yanked Roman back down. And that mouth, God, so good. Their tongues danced, and Roman was still rocking against him, and finally Deniz just tilted his head back, trying to breathe, trying to stay in control. And then there were kisses. Trailing down his neck, down his collarbone, down his stomach. Oh God. Oh God.

His brain was 95% offline, at least. Which was as good a reason as any for why it took him so long to hear his dad walk in the room.

***

 _It wasn’t Deniz’s idea. That seemed really important, later. Maybe not so much at the time. He knew there were some words in between Aldo proposing the idea and the actual thing happening, but it all seemed sort of fuzzy. There had been quite a few beers._

 _Other things stood out more than the words. Aldo’s hair, which was very blond and just long enough to be wavy, and looked quite soft, actually. Now that Deniz was looking at it. And Aldo’s eyes, which were blue and clear and not so drunk and not kidding. Not kidding at all._

 _And Aldo’s mouth. Which just looked good._

 _As they leaned in a little closer, there were other things, like the smell. No aftershave, no cologne, just soap and deodorant and something warm, something all his own. And there was the way his jaw moved just a little when they got really close, like he was gulping, getting up his nerve. And the ghost of his breath against Deniz’s lips, heat and beer and maybe a breath mint. Had he been planning this?_

 _Then their lips touched, and Deniz stopped thinking._

 _It wasn’t as weird as he thought it would be. And that was weird enough, right there. Aldo’s lips were a little bit chapped, and there was no hair against his face, no girly perfume all around him. They weren’t touching anywhere except their lips, and it was very chaste at first, just the slightest pressure, completely dry, mouths tightly closed._

 _Somebody opened their mouth. Maybe it was Aldo. Maybe not. But it was just a little bit, just enough to change position slightly, tilt a head so that they lined up better. Which Deniz did, and then, well, everything changed. Aldo’s mouth gave way for him, opened up for him, and Deniz pushed right ahead. He had his hand on the back of Aldo’s head, and yeah, that hair really was as soft as it looked. And they were kissing, really kissing, tongues touching now, lips moving. It wasn’t until later that Deniz realized that he was the one doing all of that. Aldo was sort of stiff against him, maybe trying to pull back a little. But it was too good. Too good to stop_ now. __

 _“Oh my God.” The voice was female, and fairly close by. It didn’t seem important. Aldo was grunting a little, moving his head, taking his lips out of range. So Deniz just tilted his head the other way and dove in for more. Because, wow. How had it taken them so long to do this?_

 _There were more noises, like whispers, or something. Kind of annoying. All that mattered was that Aldo’s whole body was coursing with electricity, and his tongue tasted like peppermint, and now his hand was on Deniz’s shoulder_ oh my God _and then --_

 _Everything stopped. Aldo was shoving, hard, pushing him away, and he was breathing hard, looking at Deniz with... something. Something not good. Kind of disturbed, kind of surprised, kind of -- disgusted, maybe? “Dude, what the hell?” His voice was scratchy. He was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Suddenly, Deniz realized that what he’d thought was electricity was something else, like tension, or discomfort. Or horror. Oh._

 _“Ötztürk.” It was Stefan’s voice. Deniz whipped his head around, and the whole party was staring at them now. There was almost no sound in the room. Stefan wasn’t talking to him, just saying the name, marveling at it. Shaking his head some. “Man, who knew?”_

 __Oh my God. Oh my God. _His cheeks were burning. His whole face was. And something was pounding in his ears, something very loud. Deniz scrambled to his feet, nearly falling over, grabbing for the wall to steady himself. He suddenly felt in danger of losing all that beer, and he really didn’t want to do it in front of everybody._

 _He looked down at Aldo, ready to explain, to say -- something. Anything. But Aldo was staring at him like he’d lost his mind, and Deniz didn’t have any words, and his throat was getting tight now, everything rising in his stomach._

 _So he ran. Out the door, down the stairs, out into the street. And then farther. He ran, and ran, and ran. He didn’t know how to stop._

***

He was running. It usually helped, going for a run, and the weather was good for it, and the path wasn’t too crowded. But he was barely aware of the steady movement of his arms and legs, the good low burn in his quads, the music coming out of his iPod. All he could think about was Dad. And Roman. And Dad.

The path turned into the woods, and Deniz pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his ears, shivering a little, picking up the pace. Okay, so it was a little cold for this. But the rowing machine hadn’t been enough this time, and Dad’s words were really loud in his head, and he needed to get away from them somehow.

 _The family honor_. He wanted to laugh, to scoff at that. What did that even mean? Except he knew what it meant. That was the problem. He’d been expecting it. And also, he was right.

His sneakers made a solid sound every time they hit the pavement, a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat. It was a comforting sound. Deniz tried to focus on it, regulating his breathing, watching the trees. This should help. It wasn’t helping.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know. Like he hadn’t been telling himself this forever. He knew what it meant to be gay, and he knew what it meant to be a Turk. They were two very different things. A Turkish man was a family man, a strong man, a virile man. A man. Not a faggot.

There must have been a branch across the path, or a stone, or something. Something made him stumble. He broke his stride, nearly falling, hands windmilling in the air as he tried to keep his balance. It worked, sort of. He stayed on his feet. But he was out of breath, and his vision was blurring. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and it took a second for him to realize that it was because his eyes were wet.

“Jesus.” He gritted his teeth, steeling his stomach. _Get a fucking grip._ It didn’t work, and he was suddenly so mad he couldn’t breathe. There was a tree just off the path, and he punched it, hard. The reverberations felt good for a second, but then his fist began to throb and he brought his other hand to it, rubbing his knuckles, cursing himself.

Roman wouldn’t be this stupid. That was what was confusing about all this, how strong Roman was. He didn’t give a crap what anyone thought. He knew who he was, what he wanted. He was amazing.

Deniz’s hand hurt. It would probably help to take off his gloves, examine the skin. He didn’t. He slumped against the tree and held his fist against his chest, and he closed his eyes.

***

 _Deniz didn’t tell anyone. He stayed indoors the whole rest of the weekend, and Mom sure had her share of things to say about that. But it wasn’t to be helped._

 _Except then it was Monday, and he was standing in the school parking lot, hand tight on the strap of his backpack, staring at the building. Maybe he could just skip. Just disappear for the day. But there wasn’t much point in that, because everybody would still be there tomorrow. And anyway, where was he going to go?_

 _Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. That’s what he kept telling himself as he pushed through the front door, looking straight ahead, exuding calm as best he could. Maybe nobody would even say anything. They were his friends, after all._

 _Okay, so far, so good. He walked through the hall, keeping a steady pace, going straight to his locker. But then he heard it. “Faggot.” He knew the voice. For a minute, Deniz contemplated just ignoring it, just walking to class with his head held high. But there was _laughing_ , now, and that was too much._

He turned around, staring Stefan down as defiantly as he knew how. “Shut up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, faggot. Did I hurt your feelings, faggot? Are we feeling sensitive? _Faggot?” People were starting to notice this. A head turned, and then two. Deniz’s hand was curling into a fist at his side._

 _“I’m not a fucking queer.”_

 _“Ha!” His voice was getting louder. They were drawing an actual crowd. “That wasn’t_ me _shoving my tongue down Aldo’s throat on Friday. What the fuck did you think we would --”_

 _“Shut up.” His face was hot, again. He didn’t feel like running anymore. Just like slamming Stefan face-first into the lockers. “It was his id--”_

 _“No way.” That wasn’t Stefan anymore, even. People were murmuring to each other. Apparently not everyone had heard. Yet. “Deniz kissed Aldo?”_

 _“It was_ his idea. _” Deniz was speaking again. Saying it_ again. _He didn’t know why nobody cared about that. “It was just a... fucking...”_

 _He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Everyone was staring at him now, and God, there was even a teacher listening in at this point. That queer-ass guidance counselor, Mr. Koch. Or Mr. Kochsucker, as every boy in the school referred to him behind his back. Because Deniz had the colossal bad luck of having a locker right outside the guy’s office, and so he’d stepped outside to see what the commotion was, and now he was standing there in a pink sweater and too-tight pants looking fucking ridiculous and looking at Deniz with... concern. Maybe pity._ Pity. __

 _“Fuck this,” he muttered, slamming his locker shut and hurrying away from the crowd. Behind him, he could hear Stefan make some other crack, and he could hear laughter, and he could hear Kochsucker scolding him. But he couldn’t make out any of the words. He was already too far away._

 _It didn’t stop. All day, and then the next one, and the next. People were whispering. Sometimes laughing. Some people didn’t care, and some tried to reach out to him. Like the theater kids, and the band geeks. That was even worse. Kochsucker kept finding him in the hall, asking him to come in for a chat. “No.” That was all he could manage. And then “leave me alone.” If the guy tried to touch him, he’d punch him right in his stupid girly face._

 _He was at his locker again when someone did touch him, and he whirled around, arm up, ready to strike. But it wasn’t Kochsucker. It was Aldo. “Hey.” Aldo’s hands were up, palms facing Deniz, eyes kind of wide. “Hey, man, it’s just me.”_

 _Deniz lowered his fist. But he didn’t say anything. What was there to say?_

 _“Where the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you in days.”_

 _This was weird. Deniz stared at him, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t come. “Around,” he said cautiously._

 _“Look, it’s not... I mean, we can still hang out, you know? I know Stefan’s being, y’know, Stefan, but that’s not me. I don’t care if you’re gay.”_

 _Deniz felt himself snarl. He turned back to his locker, throwing a book into it with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “I’m not gay.”_

 _There was a laugh. Aldo was_ laughing _at him. Deniz snapped his head back around, and Aldo’s hands were up again. “Hey, it’s no big deal, man, but I mean -- come on.”_

 _“I’m not. Fucking. Gay.”_

 _“Lover’s quarrel?” Stefan again. Of course. Deniz’s whole body tensed, ready for a fight._

 _Aldo just rolled his eyes. “Oh, fuck off, Bosch.”_

 _“And miss your next little make-out session?” His arm was going around Deniz’s shoulder. Deniz spun and shoved him, hard. Somebody shouted as Stefan charged back toward him again, and somebody else held him back, and it was getting pretty loud, and the office door swung open. Of course._

 _“What’s going on here?” Kochsucker’s voice was high, girly. There was even a bit of a lisp. Deniz’s teeth were gritting so hard his jaw was starting to ache._

 _“That faggot shoved me!” Stefan was charging again, but he couldn’t get free from the guy who was holding him by his backpack._

 _“I won’t have any of that kind of language, Mr. Bos--”_

 _“I’m not a FUCKING FAGGOT.” He couldn’t listen to that voice for another second. “Would you all get that through your thick heads? I’m into girls. Women. Chicks. Pussy.”_

 _“Mr. Ötztürk.”_

 _“Deniz, come_ on. _” Aldo was shaking his head. If he laughed again, Deniz was absolutely going to lose it. “Just because you like --”_

 _“Shut up.” He had Aldo against the locker. “Shut UP.” Their faces were close, and Aldo’s eyes were too blue, and when he opened his mouth his breath still smelled like peppermint._

 _And then Deniz was punching someone. Beating someone. Or someones. He barely even remembered the first strike._

***

Some things, he was sure of. Like wanting Roman. He never stopped wanting Roman. Every time he saw him, he wanted him.

But every time they got close, there was Dad. Not in the room, not anymore. Not physically, anyway. But Deniz couldn’t get away from him. He was alert to every sound, every creaking floorboard, every breath that came from someone other than him. He was tense all over, and he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

It wasn't just Dad. It was Stefan. Aldo. Koch. Himself. Everything. Because it was wrong, and it was right, and it was confusing, and he didn’t know how to handle it. Didn’t know how to not screw everything up, like he always did. He started dodging Roman, avoiding him. Roman would try to touch him, to kiss him, and he’d make an excuse, and run away.

He was screwing it up, he knew it. He could see it in Roman’s eyes. It wasn’t okay. He couldn’t lose him, not now. Not after everything he’d gone through to get this far. So he went to his apartment to talk. To explain. To try to, anyway.

Then Roman was there in his towel, dripping wet, all strong torso and wet lips and looking at Deniz like he _knew things_ and Deniz forgot how to speak.

He kissed him, and he kissed him, and he kissed him.

The towel found its way to the floor.

***

 _He felt naked. That was the thought that stood out most. Naked, exposed. Vulnerable._

 _Everybody was staring at him. Everybody could see him. There were hands on him. Aldo was_ touching _him. Aldo with his stupid peppermint. Aldo who had started the whole thing in the first place._

 _There were punches. Kicks. Darkness. It was maybe better not to remember. He was so scared._

 _“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” Someone was yelling._ He _was yelling. And punching air, now. They were holding him down, holding him back. There was blood._

 _Oh God. Oh God._

 __What have you done? __

 _He wrenched free and ran. Pushed through the doors and kept running. It was hot outside, almost summer. He didn’t have his backpack. He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t go anywhere._

 _He didn’t stop._

***

Everything was happening so fast. Roman against him, wet and firm and naked. His jacket joining Roman’s towel on the floor, and then his shirt, and then his body. Roman had him pinned, pressing him down, kissing him harder than ever. Deniz was terrified and overheated and out of his mind and he _wanted._ Wanted everything.

They rolled together, Deniz pinning Roman now, pushing his tongue deeper, letting his hands roam. They traveled roughly over all that skin, miles of it, so hard and smooth and good. He found Roman’s ass and groped it strongly, pulling him in, squeezing him tight. Roman groaned, shamelessly humping up against Deniz’s body as he fumbled with his belt, wrestling it open and then shoving his hand down inside everything.

Deniz broke the kiss, gasping, when Roman’s hand wrapped tight and hot around him. He didn’t tease. Didn’t do it like a girl would, loose and slow and too gentle. He just bit down on Deniz’s earlobe and jacked him fast, strong. His hands knew things.

Deniz was making a noise. He didn’t really recognize it. Wasn’t really conscious of making it. But a sound was coming out of him, a whiny, keening thing, and Roman was whispering harshly into his ear. “That’s it. That’s it. You like that, I knew you would. Been wanting to get my hands on you for ages, wanting to make you come.”

“Oh!” It was over, already. He was convulsing, the pleasure exploding in a sudden, powerful burst followed by one shaking aftershock after another, and Roman was still stroking him. Still whispering. Deniz couldn’t make out the words anymore. He just closed his eyes, clung to the strong shoulders under him, and heaved in breath after breath as he slowly came down.

Gradually, his eyes opened. A little at a time. Roman was kissing his shoulder, waiting for him. Deniz could feel how hard he was, but he wasn’t touching it. He was just waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Roman just stared at him, confused. “For, you know.” He cleared his throat. He was still fully dressed from the waist down, and his crotch was very wet, and it was starting to get uncomfortable. “I’m not usually so, um. Quick.”

Roman just smiled. “You’re going to have to prove that one.”

 _Among other things._ He didn’t say that out loud, but he didn’t smile, and Roman’s face softened, a hand stroking through his hair.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m... flattered.”

It wasn’t possible that he didn’t know. How Deniz thought about Roman’s body all day. How much Deniz wanted him. Deniz stared at him, trying to figure it out, but all there was was beautiful eyes and that perfect mouth and never mind, it wasn’t that important anyway. He moved to kiss him, shifting his hips against Roman as he did, and Roman’s breath hitched, the wet hand clenching on his hip. Deniz knew why. He just didn’t know what to do about it. “What do you... what do you want?” He was aiming for sexy with the voice, but it came out more nervous than anything.

Roman didn’t answer. He just kissed him. And then he nudged Deniz onto his side, rolling him off of him. But staying close. “No offense, schatz. But the denim’s a little rough.”

Deniz smiled. He propped himself on an elbow, trailing a finger down Roman’s chest. He kind of wanted to touch him everywhere. Roman sighed, nuzzling at Deniz’s throat with his forehead as he brought his own hand to his cock and began to stroke.

So Deniz looked. He never had before. Never even seen a hard dick other than his own, except in porn. And this was very, very different. Roman was thick, a little longer than Deniz, and he stroked himself differently -- not as fast, and with a twist at the end. And he was making these sounds. These satisfied, breathy sounds. His skin was golden and perfect and _glowing,_ somehow, and Deniz found himself sliding his hand lower without even realizing he was doing it.

Roman let his hand fall away, tilting his head back as Deniz took over for him. And wow. He was holding another man’s dick. Warm and firm and alive in his hand, and Deniz was stroking it harder now, and Roman’s sounds were getting better. He wasn’t breathing so evenly anymore, and he was -- well, writhing. That was the only word for it. Right there on the apartment floor. Deniz leaned over him, kissing him, and Roman made a complaining noise when their lower bodies made contact again.

“Haven’t you taken these off yet?” he murmured, and his hands were busy now, unbuttoning and unzipping and yanking everything lower. Deniz kicked off his shoes and took an embarrassingly long time getting all the way naked because everything got tangled around his ankles, but Roman was watching him and stroking himself slow and _smiling_ and finally Deniz got rid of everything and just pounced.

He was hard again, or maybe he had never stopped. But Roman was on top of him, skin to skin everywhere now, and that hand was wrapping around both of them, and Deniz couldn’t seem to get close enough. They kissed wildly, passionately, and Deniz was fucking into Roman’s fist and panting into his mouth and it was _everything_ and then Roman moaned and came all over him, and that was all it took. Deniz was toppling, freefalling, flying.

It was good. That was about the only thought he had room for as they lay together on Roman’s floor, tangled up in each other, breathing. Didn’t know it would be so good.

***

 _“Are you kidding me? Are you_ kidding _me?”_

 _Mom was yelling. This wasn’t anything new, really._

 _“What the hell were you thinking? What the hell is the matter with you?”_

 _It wasn’t a new question, either. “Nothing.” He wasn’t about to yell back. Wouldn’t give her the satisfaction._

 _“Nothing? You think it’s nothing? You think beating kids to a pulp is nothing? Threatening the life of a teacher is nothing?”_

 _“I didn’t --”_

 _“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare try denying anything. You think I’m going to believe a word you say?”_

 _He crossed his arms. “No.”_

 _“They had to take both Stefan and Aldo to the hospital, you know that? And what the hell is your problem with them all of a sudden, you little freak?”_

 _Deniz’s jaw tightened. “I’m not a freak.”_

 _“They’re your two best friends in the world! You want to tell me how --”_

 _“Oh,_ now _you want to listen?”_

 _She slapped him. Quick, and loud, and flat against the face. He stared at the wall, trying not to react. Failing. In a quick move, he picked up the kitchen chair he was standing behind and slammed it to the floor, breaking it._

 _She was still yelling at his back as he ran out of the room._

***

The water was warm, and it was everywhere. Running over their bodies, through their hair. Getting them wet, soaked, drenched. Pressed tight together, their kisses growing hungrier now. Deniz wanted to put his mouth everywhere, to drink the water off Roman’s skin. It seemed impossible to be this turned on again already. But nothing felt impossible anymore.

Roman’s hands were on his ass. Cupping, caressing. Deniz smiled into the kiss, pushing back into Roman’s touch. A finger slipped lower, teasing a place that Deniz had never touched, and he stopped smiling.

He wasn’t sure which of them broke the kiss. They were standing very close still, the water coming down all around them, and Roman’s finger was still there. Not pushing in. Not doing anything. Just resting there.

Deniz knew what he wanted like he knew his own name.

Without words, he turned to the shower wall, pressing against it, hands and forehead flat against the tile. He was achingly hard already, just imagining it -- Roman pushing into him, filling him, fucking him. He’d imagined it before. He’d imagined it a lot.

But Roman didn’t do it. He just stepped close and kissed his neck. “No, schatz,” he said, his voice gentle, and he was stroking Deniz’s side with his other hand. “Not like this. When I make love to you, I want you in my bed. I want to take my time.”

Deniz couldn’t speak. But Roman didn’t expect him to. He just turned him around and kissed him, and suddenly Roman was on his knees and there was heat and suction and oh God a finger pressing inside, pressing _right oh God right THERE_ and, well. It turned out speaking was not required.

***

 _He wasn’t expelled. He didn’t understand why, at first, but he wasn’t. He was suspended, which was just as well anyway. He didn’t really want to see any of those faces any time soon. And he had to do community service for the school, which meant a lot of hours painting over graffiti and sweeping up cigarettes and that was okay. That was just fine. It was better than talking to anyone._

 _When he did go back, he kept his head down. He didn’t speak. He heard about the new guidance counselor, heard Mr. Koch had left. He felt kind of queasy about that. And also happy, that he didn’t have to face him, and that was horrible. He was horrible._

 _Time went by slowly. Very slowly. He stayed in his room and he avoided his mother and that was pretty much the usual anyway, but he missed having people to talk to. People who didn’t look at him like a freak, or a faggot. Or both._

 _It was Mom who gave him the break he needed, as it turned out. Which was pretty funny, all things considered. But it was late, and she was drunk, and she was yelling at someone on the phone, and it was pretty hard not to overhear. “No, you can’t talk to him! Do you know what time it is?”_

 _Deniz closed his eyes. Lord knew who might be calling._

 _“Oh, and you think that makes you something special? Where have you been the last seventeen years?”_

 _The last... wait. Dad? Dad wanted to talk to him?_

 _“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you and your money. Maybe if he’d had an actual father figure in his life he wouldn’t have turned into such a little psycho.”_

 _The insult barely registered. Deniz sat up, listening more carefully now. Dad never called. What was going on?_

 _“You’re a real piece of work, you know that, Marian? You think that was a good plan? Maybe he deserved to be expelled, you ever think of that? How the hell is he gonna learn -- no -- hey, don’t interrupt me!” She was storming outside now, which meant she was really mad. And which also meant Deniz couldn’t listen anymore._

 _It didn’t matter. He’d heard enough. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, turning it over in his head. Dad. Dad had intervened? Dad was the reason he wasn’t kicked out of school?_

 _Dad. Essen. A lifeline. He didn’t sleep for a long time, thinking. Turning it over in his head. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost after all._

***

There were distractions after the shower, and life, and somehow, it was almost a week later before they finally made it to a bed. They did a lot of other things in that week, though. It was a really good week.

But now they were here, finally here, finally alone. They had the apartment to themselves for once, and Roman’s big, warm bed, and they were naked, bodies wound tightly together, kissing like mad. And Deniz knew it was going to happen. He knew it.

Didn’t stop him from mouthing his way down Roman’s chest, tickling his ribs with his tongue, rolling his balls with his fingers. He’d gotten good at this by now. He was learning Roman’s body, learning how to make him squirm and buck and moan. Deniz had never been a particularly good student, but he would have, he definitely would have, if the subject matter had ever been as enticing as this.

He nuzzled Roman’s lower belly with his nose, eyeing that substantial erection, his mouth watering already. He loved having Roman in his mouth. Loved the way it filled him, the flavor of it, the way it got thicker as he sucked. The way Roman talked to him all the way through it, full sentences dissolving into fragments of praise and curses and then just Deniz’s name, over and over again. Like music. Sometimes when he jacked off alone now, it was the sound of Roman saying his name like that that he thought of, and the thought of those strong hands in his hair that pushed him over the edge.

His lips were parted and he was lowering his head and he was almost, almost there but then Roman was grabbing him, pulling him up, rolling him onto his back. _What is it,_ Deniz felt like asking, but he already knew the answer. Roman was kissing him roughly, biting his lip, turning him on like crazy. And a hand was disappearing, pulling open a drawer. Roman broke the kiss, watching his eyes as he pulled out what he needed and laid it on the bed. A condom. A small bottle, half-full of clear, smooth gel. Deniz was breathing harder now.

Roman was calm, and very hard. “Do you --”

“Yes.” He really didn’t mean for his voice to break on the word, but it made Roman smile, and that was okay. And they were kissing again, deep and wet, and Deniz was already spreading his legs, already craving that pressure inside.

One finger was familiar by now, and two. Even three they’d gotten to once, though Roman had flickered his tongue around with it that time, so this was different. But Deniz was clinging to him, arms and legs and mouth attached, and he didn’t want him to leave. Didn’t want him to stop kissing him. Not anytime soon. Not ever.

Sooner than he expected, but also not nearly soon enough, Roman was sliding a pillow under Deniz’s ass and rolling a condom on and Deniz thought he would feel nervous now. It made sense that he would. That he’d think of his father, or Munich, or everything else that happened after and just want to run. But instead he arched back as Roman pushed in, and he wrapped his legs around that sturdy waist and breathed through the pain, pulling him deeper, deeper, not wanting him anywhere else. And then it was done, he was in, and they were touching everywhere and his ass was throbbing and Roman was trembling, kissing his face, stroking his hair.

“I love you.” Roman’s words were a little shaky. Because he was trying so hard to stay still. Deniz wanted to say it back, because it was true. It was so true. He had never been more sure of anything in his life. But he seemed to have lost his words. So he just kissed him instead, and rocked his hips just a little, and Roman responded to the invitation, beginning a slow rhythm of in and in and in.

It hurt, still. He knew it would. But he’d been thinking about this for a long, long time, since before Roman, since before Aldo, since before he even understood what it meant to want this. And he wasn’t going to stand in his own damn way any longer. He certainly wasn’t going to deny himself this because of a little pain.

“Are... are you...” Roman’s voice was all uneven. He was trying so hard. Being so gentle, so careful. But pushing forward, again and again, rubbing right against that spot, oh God. It felt so good. “Are you okay?”

Deniz nodded, clinging tighter. His heels were digging into Roman’s back, and it was probably uncomfortable for him, or painful, even. He couldn’t seem to stop.

It was really happening. Finally. Finally happening.

Roman’s pace was building, a little at a time. Steady, but just a bit faster now, and harder, too. “Yes,” Deniz said, and it sounded like a moan. The angle was perfect. The pressure was perfect. Roman was panting over him, kissing him, perfect.

“Deniz.” A harsh whisper, beautiful, strong against his mouth. “So tight. So good.”

Deniz closed his eyes. “Harder.” It was what he wanted, and Roman gave it to him, and it was almost too much. Deniz tilted his head back, groaning, rocking his hips back to meet each thrust, and his ass was burning, and that spot was going to explode, _he_ was going to explode, from the pleasure of it, the intensity of it, the sosososoGOOD and there was a hand on his dick, pumping him fast, and that was it. That was it. The pleasure rolled through him from his toes and his fingers and the ends of his hair, everything coursing through him, shooting out his cock again and again, and he cried out loud with the strength of it.

Roman made a strangled sound as he came too, burying himself deep, panting out his release with his mouth wide against Deniz’s shoulder.

They stayed that way, tangled together, still connected, holding on. Deniz didn’t ever want to let him go.

***

 _He couldn’t leave right away. He had to keep his head down, finish his exams, finish the school year. Stay out of Mom’s way, and everybody else’s. And he had to save the money, too. Tickets to Essen weren’t cheap._

 _He didn’t bother to tell Mom he was leaving. It wasn’t hard to sneak away. He waited until she was out with the creep and then packed a duffel, slipping out to the station without looking back._

 _He wasn’t running away. That’s what he kept thinking as he settled into his seat on the train, leaning his head against the window, watching the scenery roll by. Not running. Just moving forward. Moving on. Nobody knew in Essen. Nobody ever had to. He could get a fresh start, another chance. He’d do it right this time, he was sure of it._

 _Walking in on Dad and that hot Nadja chick was a surprise. But, y’know, go Dad. And things were looking up. Dad still looked at him the same way he always had, and he said he could stay. He could stay._

 _Dad put him to work right away, of course, but he didn’t mind. As he jogged down to the fry stand to pick up his father’s order, he was in a good mood. The sun was shining, and Essen was beautiful, and everything was beautiful. It was a whole new day._

 _The fry stand wasn’t much; just a handful of stand-up tables and a counter with an odd-looking guy behind it. But he looked around as he waited, and hey, there was Nadja. “Hi,” he called, waving._

 _“Hello, Deniz.” There was a good-looking guy at the table with her, light hair and clear eyes and an expression on his face that was... something. He was looking at Deniz. Looking._ Don’t be an idiot, _Deniz thought as he walked over to them. The guy didn’t look away. “This is Roman,” she was saying, and he shook his hand._

***

His words trailed off, and Roman chuckled, tracing a soft pattern over Deniz’s bare arm where it crossed his chest. “I was,” he said. “Looking at you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hot.” Deniz grinned, stretching away. He didn’t get far.

“You little rat.” Roman was grabbing him, laughing at him, rolling him over. Deniz happily let himself be rolled. Roman’s skin was warm and delicious and everywhere, and they hadn’t stopped touching for hours.

The sheets were kind of tangled on their legs, and Roman kicked them off, covering Deniz’s body with his own, kissing him. Deniz kissed back. He always kissed back.

When they broke, though, there was something different in Roman’s eyes. Something more serious. He brushed a thumb across Deniz’s cheek before he spoke, gazing at him. “Do you regret it?”

Deniz blinked. “What? Kissing Aldo? Beating him up? Leaving Munich? Meeting you?”

“Any of it.” So serious. Deniz hadn’t seen him this serious in a long time.

“I have my regrets. I’ve been an idiot.”

Roman didn’t argue. Deniz rolled his eyes, pushing at his shoulder a little. They were smiling again, at least.

“It’s taken me a long time to get here.” His hand was on Roman’s hip, holding him in place. He really liked having him there. “But I made it. That’s the point. Eventually.”

“Still feel like running?”

He shook his head, and he watched Roman’s eyes. “No.” He didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

They kissed. They kissed a lot. Wrapped up together, wrapped up in each other. And Deniz was happy.

He was home.


End file.
